Lisa came into my office a few days ago in tears.
Lisa came into my office a few days ago in tears.
“Life’s just out of control, that’s all,” she said.
Three days earlier she had experienced a melt-down. After volunteering at a local food pantry, she took one child to gymnastics. Then she picked another up from school and drove her to piano, ran back to her oldest daughter’s school, and picked her up. She went back to gymnastics, back to piano, then drove her oldest to a birthday party at 5:30 pm. After that, she had planned to swing into the grocery store, find food for supper, go home, and make dinner. But her melt-down disrupted the evening.
“While I was driving to the birthday party, one of the kids began to complain. I snapped. I pulled the car into the nearest driveway and started screaming at all three girls in the back seat. My 7-year-old told the 9-year-old to ‘shut up,’ and my 12-year-old started yelling at my 7-year-old because she said that she should never say ‘shut-up.’
“Suddenly, I burst into tears. The car became stone-cold quiet. I turned the car around and went home. No birthday party, and we had canned soup for dinner. Do you think I’m turning into a child abuser?” she finished.
No, I reassured her, she wasn’t a child abuser, just an overcooked mom like the rest of us. But here’s my question: why are we moms compelled to live so frenetically?
Let’s face it. We’ve all been in Lisa’s shoes.
If we peel away the excuses we make for over-scheduling ourselves and our kids, we’re left with the real reason we do this: fear. We are too afraid not to be busy.
Adding complexity to our lives and raising our anxiety levels has become a past-time for mothers—particularly conscientious mothers. We sign our kids up for tons of things (most of which they don’t want to do), fret about which school to send them to, stuff their lives and ours with too many things, and then worry about how we’ll pay for it all. I think we’ve all gone a bit mad (myself included).